


Not the Time

by junebugrebellion



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: (literally), Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Violence, Pre-ESB, hanleiaholidayexchange2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:41:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22081105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junebugrebellion/pseuds/junebugrebellion
Summary: When a mission goes wrong, Han and Leia can't seem to find the right moment.
Relationships: Leia Organa/Han Solo
Comments: 14
Kudos: 50





	Not the Time

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of Han/Leia Secret Santa, and it was written for lajulie24 on tumblr! Happy Holidays!

_ Wow,  _ Han thought as he watched Leia from across the hall. She was  _ gorgeous.  _ Her brow was creased in concentration, the skin there shiny with sweat. Her eyes blazed, holy fury, deep and dark and flaming. This time, thankfully, that fury wasn’t directed at him, though he couldn’t deny it was something special to be the center of her attention. Best of all, a few hairs had slipped from her impossibly-tight crown of braids. He loved her slightly disheveled - showing just a bit more of herself, of the woman he-

“Han!” she snapped, meeting his eyes. “What are you  _ doing?”  _

Oh, right. The sound of blaster fire suddenly came crashing back, as did the shouting, the smell of cauterized flesh, and the familiar weight of a blaster in his hand. Taris. The mission. The ambush. The hiding behind ruined marble columns and peeking out to take a hopeful shot - or, in Leia’s case, a perfectly-aimed shot. Stars, she was stunning. A better shot than he’d ever seen and a sharper mind than anyone he’d ever met, a diplomat who could negotiate under fire-

Now was not the time to wax poetic. He could do that later, when she stood in the _Falcon’s_ galley and stood on her toes in her charming way. Was there anything about her that wasn’t charming? 

Leia turned to take cover behind her column. She took a shaky breath, glancing to him. “Are you out of ammo?” she asked, panting. 

“I, uh.” He glanced to his blaster, then to her face. He smiled sheepishly. “No?”

“Then start  _ shooting!”  _

While he wasn’t one to follow orders, she was right. He spun around the outside column and took a few shots at the troopers that had cornered them, dropping one. He moved back around it, then looked over to Leia. “This is fun, Princess,” he said dryly, “but you got any idea how to get us out of here?” 

She panted, holding her blaster close to her chest. These troopers hadn’t come out of nowhere, and they were still filing in; no one had exposed their mission. She supposed that was a risk of coming to a planet under heavy Imperial surveillance. If they were lucky, they were being stalked for trespassing and burglary. It was possible the troopers didn’t see them as anything but thieves. 

The shooting died down, and she heard more footsteps approaching. If there were more troopers on the way, why had they stopped firing? She locked eyes with Han across the hall and saw the same confusion in his eyes. 

“Stand down!” commanded a stern, unfiltered voice from down the hall. An officer.  _ Fuck.  _ They weren’t supposed thieves if there was an officer involved. 

Han looked to Leia, and they shared a conversation in looks, done in the way only they could.  _ What’s our move?  _ He glanced out to the men, unable to spot the officer.  _ You got a clear shot?  _

She looked out, too, barely keeping cover.  _ No.  _ She knew he didn’t, either. “Never!” she yelled instead, gripping her blaster with white knuckles. 

Han rolled his eyes, then whispered, “How do you think that’s gonna go?”

“I don’t see you with any better ideas!” she whispered back. 

“What am _ I  _ supposed to-“

“Princess Leia,” said the officer, exasperated yet smug, “stand down.” 

Fuck.  _ Fuck.  _ There went any hope of anonymity, of getting away with a slap on the wrist - though she supposed that had been thrown away when the shooting started. When Han had started the shooting. She looked to Han now, hot-tempered and clever and handsome and - what?  _ Not the time.  _

He hesitated, awkward silence in the air. A moment passed. Two. “Who’s Princess Leia?” he yelled. Maybe she’d been too quick to think him clever. 

The officer approached, footsteps echoing in the crumbling marble. “Your supposed ignorance will not save you,” he said as he came into peeking-out-from-cover view. He was middle-aged with pale skin and slowly-silvering hair. Neither Han nor Leia knew his name, but both understood from his expression that he was not familiar with losing. “Come out and surrender,” he ordered, “or I will have no choice but to bring the building down.” 

The threat would be easy to carry out. This place was a remnant from a different war, and it had fallen to disrepair. One chip to the marble, and the structure would fall to the ground. Looking out to the troopers, Han realized there was a poorly-supported archway between them. A shot to the crumbling column would bring it down. He glanced to Leia, and she followed his gaze. She couldn’t see everything, but she understood his intention. But he needed a clear shot, or the ceiling could come down on them. 

“I’ll cover you,” Leia whispered, meeting his eyes. 

He hesitated. There were things they didn’t talk about, soft acknowledgements they knew but didn’t discuss. One of those was the stomach-twisting thought of how little each of them had to lose - besides each other. But he knew her, knew what she would prioritize. This mission wasn’t worth her life. He nodded. 

Almost in slow motion, she turned out from behind the column. She stood, without cover or armor, blaster raised, the most wanted woman in the galaxy. She was crazy, fucking crazy, if drawing fire away from him was her plan. One decent shot, and she’d-

There wasn’t time. Han heard the officer beginning to shout orders to open fire, and he turned, too. He shot twice, just to be sure, and the stone groaned before slipping away, apart, crashing down among return fire. Just as the archway brought the ceiling down, he saw a shot from Leia’s blaster hit the Imperial bastard in the shoulder.  _ That’s my girl.  _

He swallowed, considering when Leia had internally become  _ his girl  _ and what she’d think of that. But then he turned to find her skittered back, barely standing. He took one, two, three steps and caught her before she fell, eyes wide. A shot in her shoulder, one in her side, and-

“I’m fine,” she breathed, struggling to stand out of his arms. 

“You’re not fine!” The roof above them groaned. They’d have to argue while running. He wound his arm around her waist, making sure not to touch her wound. “Can you walk?” he asked, doing his best to support her upright. 

“Of course I can walk.” 

He had some opinions about her tone - of  _ course,  _ of fucking  _ course  _ she could  _ walk -  _ but they could have that conversation when he was sure the building wasn’t going to fall down around them. They ran - as much as they could, with Leia’s injuries - through the ruined halls. Even hurt, she was able to guide them out relatively quickly. And then it was a sprint to the  _ Falcon,  _ a ship which had the benefit of blending in as beat-up freighter. Han practically carried her up the ramp, slamming the hatch closed. They took off just as the first bolts hit the  _ Falcon’s  _ hull. 

When Han had them racing away at light speed, able to leave the controls, he left the cockpit. Leia had sat down on his shitty excuse for a couch, cradling her wounds. It was only the two, thank the gods, but they hurt like hell. At least her conversation with former Senator Pamlo had gone well. There was hope, then, for a few more supporters for the cause. 

Han took a seat next to her, first aid kit in hand. He dumped it out on the table and began rooting through the supplies. There were bandages, some alcohol, a numbing agent-

“I don’t need all that,” Leia snapped, made angry by the pain. She winced at her own tone, looked to Han apologetically. 

He was incredulous. “You don’t need it, huh?”

She gave him a look. “I’ll wait until we’re back to Hoth.” 

“You will not!” He picked out the numbing cream. The wounds would already be cauterized, so there wasn’t much he could do without bacta. But he’d take care of the pain, at least. “I’m not gonna let you be stupid twice today.” 

“You needed a distraction!” she defended. “Would you rather we'd die in there? Hurt isn’t dead.” 

“Yeah?” He gave her a look, his eyes stern and bright. This was when he was at his best, defensive of anything except himself, sure he was right but not knowing he was good. “You see where you got shot, sweetheart? There?” He pointed to her shoulder, the spot an inch and a half from her neck. “This? Almost fucking fatal.”

“I’m alright.” She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t admit that he was right, that it was close, that it would have been worth it. 

“You can’t do that!” 

“What was I supposed to do, leave you uncovered?” 

“You’re too important!” 

His shout hung in the air, both looking at each other. She could see the breath rising and falling in his chest, in his shoulders. Watching it made her realize how much she ached, her waist and her shoulder moving with every labored breath. A moment of understanding passed between their eyes, but she couldn’t let it stand. Her words were separated, dignified, and serious. “I am just as important as you.” 

He shook his head and scooped a bit of numbing cream onto his fingertips. “Take off your jacket,” he huffed. When he could apply it to her skin, he did. Unable to meet her eyes, he mumbled, “You know that’s not true.” 

“It is,” she insisted. She pushed his shoulder with her good arm, but it stretched a muscle that made her curse. She didn’t have time for his self-loathing or her idealization. “Of course it is.” 

“Not to me.” 

And she understood. This wasn’t about the Rebellion, about her being a princess or an asset or - No. This was something else. Something she knew but hadn’t had, not this way, and not in any way for a long time. Silently, she moved held her sleeve for him, letting him apply the cream. 

They were quiet for a while, uncomfortable but not squeamish in their mutual understanding. Their breathing and the soft, occasionally pained whirring of the  _ Falcon  _ kept them company. Eventually, though, he said, “You better be careful, pulling shit like that.” He went to lift her shirt near her waist, but she hoisted it before he could get there. Briefly, smiling, he met her eyes. “I might start thinking you like me.” 

“Of course I like you,” she said, rolling her eyes. “We’re friends. And no one else would’ve thought to blow the arch with a blaster shot.” 

He laughed quietly, at her and with her.  _ Han: 1. Everyone else: 0.  _ Even her  _ friends  _ comment made him lightheaded. “Well, sure. I’m a genius.” 

That made her laugh until she winced, and even then, she was still chuckling. For a moment, the world revolved around her smiling face, and he couldn’t look away. Glorious, gorgeous Leia, more herself when she laughed than any other time. He thought about kissing her, not knowing she thought about the same thing. Both decided against it, made nervous by feeling, by probability of loss. It wasn’t the right time. But for a moment of that wrong time, for one shining second, they stayed golden. 


End file.
